


victory, babes

by staalesque



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alpha Tuukka, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Beta Patrice, Beta Torey, Come Eating, Comeplay, Established Relationship, Foursome - M/M/M/M, M/M, Omega Brad, Orgasm Delay/Denial, you read that relationship tag correctly folks; its a wild ride
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-14 02:41:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18043898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staalesque/pseuds/staalesque
Summary: Patrice is no stranger to victory, nor the consequences it brings, but there was an undeniable thrill when he surveyed the locker room in the aftermath of the game, seeking those permission points, searching for grounding.Set after BOS vs. FLA - 03.07.2019





	victory, babes

**Author's Note:**

> i basically reinvented betas specifically for this fic; there's punnett squares and everything if you're interested. regardless, this fic isn't beta'd and it's just straight up filth. hope you enjoy!

Patrice is no stranger to victory, nor the consequences it brings, but there was an undeniable thrill when he surveyed the locker room in the aftermath of the game, seeking those permission points, searching for grounding. The room is filled with various scents and voices, clamoring over each other, each with a celebratory tone, but even Tuukka and Brad, both more sensitive to this type of environment have no trouble tracking him through the noise. He feels a shiver go down his spine, even as he answers questions from media. A distinct third note of desire wafts through the crowd, catching Patrice’s attention and temporarily stalling his words, his attention focused, however briefly, entirely on Torey as he walks behind the scrum. He’s sure his own response gives him away, as the scrum is a little more stilted afterwards, even though nothing’s happened yet. It’s just awkward.

The media filters away, moving to swarm around a new locker, with new questions, and new angles to try, while Patrice double, triple, quadruple checks that he has put everything where he needs to put it. Large, perpetually cool, hands settle on his hips, and he closes his eyes, tilting his head to the side however slightly. This is not the place, but when he opens them to make that argument, he’s met with the sight of both Brad and Torey standing before him, one looking moderately more patient than the other, but still waiting their turn. Tuukka’s teeth gently scrape over Patrice’s neck, and he barely bites back the soft whine it causes.

“Pas ici, pas ici,” he mumbles, extracting himself from the alpha’s grasp. Tuukka merely laughs, reaching down to pinch the beta’s ass, walking out of the locker room. Brad wastes no time snuggling up to Patrice, burrowing under his arm as they walk out of the locker room. Torey walks beside them, doing something on his phone in one hand, his other fitting neatly into Patrice’s. The night air is cold, it’s a proper Massachusetts spring, but the inside of their truck is warm, and Tuukka’s mouth on his as soon as he sits in the passenger seat is hot, but the way Torey and Brad immediately fall into each other in the back seat is even hotter.

Somehow, they make it home, tonight “home” meaning Tuukka’s place, and they manage to seem visually presentable as they temporarily re-enter public space before disappearing into the privacy of the bedroom. Normally one of the cleanest homes, between the four of them, Tuukka’s home now boasts a line of expensive menswear from the front door to the master bedroom, and normally Patrice would feel bad about it, but he has Brad pulling his shirt off and Torey running his hands up his back, and Tuukka looking at him with such intensity he might just dissolve into nothing.

He doesn’t know how they decided who was to go first. Victories celebrated between the four of them are common, often one of the four of them playing a key role in doing so, but tonight it’s all about Patrice, which meant he had to be excluded from the conversation. He finds he doesn’t care, as he’s pushed down to sit on the bed that smells like all four of them and Brad climbs in his lap, capturing his mouth in a kiss, still tugging at what remains of his own clothing.

Of course their omega goes first; of course they would buck trends and upset the hierarchy and let this loudmouthed omega go first. Patrice smiles into the kiss. That’s his Bradley.

He rolls them so Brad is beneath him, and as he reaches down between them, he can feel the dampness of his slick already starting. Pat can’t judge, he’s in a similar state, and he has no doubt that Torey is too, though neither of them can nor ever will get close to the amount an actual omega can create. Brad’s just getting started, and they both know that, but the high keening whine he lets out as soon as Patrice’s fingers brush over his hole gets an answering groan from the other three parties.

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Patrice watches Torey and Tuukka making out in the leather recliner Tuukka keeps in his bedroom for more or less purposes like this. It’s also a good reading chair, but only Tuukka can attest to that. He watches Tuukka’s hands slide down Torey’s bare back, the other beta whining quietly at their alpha’s touch. He watches as Torey rolls his hips down and Tuukka laughs into their kiss, a soft, patronizing sound, that’s only okay by Torey in this context specifically, pride be damned.

“Hey,” comes from below him, and Brad’s looking up at him with a surprising amount of clarity, considering how he’s still rocking his hips down, ever so slightly, against Patrice’s fingers. “It’s your night. You’ll get all three of us. But now’s my turn, so please fuck me before I have to take matters into my own hands.”

“Sorry, ange,” Patrice murmurs, moving his fingers with a purpose now. The slick is plentiful enough now that he can slide two fingers in, easy. Brad’s breath hitches, his back bowing off the bed, and Patrice puts a hand on his chest, thumbing at his nipples to tease. “I’ll fuck you, promise.”

Brad doesn’t answer, can’t answer, sensitivity overriding his ability to do much else. He nods, enthusiastically, trembling as he opens for Patrice. When Patrice slides home, Brad gives out a little gasp of pleasure, his hands twisting in the pillowcases on either side of his head.

In the background, he hears other faint, slick sounds. He’s not sure what the other two are up to, but he angles his hips a little bit differently, and both Torey and Brad make a noise that’s oh so sweet and oh so similar that he has a vague idea of what Tuukka could be doing to the other beta. Brad pulls him down into a kiss, all consuming and demanding, a reflex to bluster and bolster his demands before Patrice gets distracted for a third time.

Patrice makes a soft sound in his throat that turns into a groan when Brad tightens around him. This might be Patrice’s reward, but this is Brad’s turn, and he deserves to be fucked _properly,_ with a hunger and desire and carnal need. He pulls out of the kiss and presses his nose to Brad’s neck, right over his scent gland, letting the hormones rattle his brain in the good kind of foggy way. Not deprivation, but euphoria. The sheer need and arousal between the two of them gets Torey’s attention.

“Dépêchez-vous,” he calls, trying to sound irritated but his pronunciation is off and his breathing hitched. There’s more sounds, a growl, a moan, a hiccuping mewl, but they fade into the background as Patrice lets himself give over to the side he normally represses.

Brad’s quite easy to manipulate, moving his leg up to deepen the angle is hardly a problem, and it doesn’t take much longer before Brad’s on the edge, clearly having been worked up since the car ride back. He’s being good, keeping his hands up by his head, and Patrice reaches between the two of them, sitting up a bit as he takes Brad’s dick in his hand, stroking and rubbing him until he comes.

The mewl that Brad makes when he comes silences the room. There’s something about the way their omega trembles and writhes, makes a mess of himself that captures all of their attentions, the centerpiece aligning all of their desires. And as he softly comes back to himself, blinking up at Patrice with tears clumping his lashes together, panting, a blush across his nose, Patrice can’t help but lean down to kiss him.

There’s another weight on the bed, a third and fourth scent, the other halves of home connecting. A hand slides over Patrice’s shoulders, before a voice whispers, “It’s my turn, babe,” close to his ear. He’s tugged out of the kiss with Brad, who looks blissed from his own orgasm but kind of pouting that he wasn’t able to get Patrice to come, before pale arms reach in and help move him out of the way.

Tuukka says nothing, doesn’t touch Patrice, but that’s him being respectful. It’s him letting Torey have his turn, a system of balances, a disregard for the way society tells them to work.

Then the thought drifts away as Torey takes Patrice’s mouth with his own, pushing him over onto his back and straddling him. He wastes no time lining himself up and sinking down onto Patrice’s cock, already stretched from Tuukka. Patrice can’t help the way his hips buck up, and Torey looks down at him with a smirk.

He sets a hand on Patrice’s chest, his other continuing to jerk himself off as he sets a fast, hard pace. “Been wanting to do this since that fucking goal,” Torey moans, twisting his fingers around his hip. “Fucking beautiful.”

Patrice whines, the praise and pleasure mixing together in a heady mix. Brad’s pleasure, a sweet and deep kind of scent, like honey whiskey, is being rapidly replaced by Torey’s summer fresh air and sun warmed earth scent, but the note of desire is the same in both. Torey’s a talker, Brad is not, and the half murmured phrases in English and butchered French are doing a lot. He’s not sure how much time has passed, but he’s getting close to the edge, and he squeezes Torey’s hips, trying to let him know. Abruptly, Torey stops, pinning Patrice down with his full weight.

“What-?”

“Tuukka,” Torey calls, still looking down at Patrice. Patrice looks over at Tuukka and Brad, who are back in the recliner, Brad trembling as Tuukka slowly, teasingly jerks him off. They’re both hard, but Tuukka’s purposefully not touching himself.

He locks eyes with Patrice, as he murmurs, “Yes?”

“Can I _please_ …” he trails off, but rolls his hips once. Patrice moans at the feeling, having only just come back from the edge, yet Tuukka doesn’t seem inclined to respond. In his arms, Brad whimpers, clearly on track for another orgasm. Tuukka’s fingers are busy between his legs, slick noises from his fingers moving within him, and the omega throws his head back onto Tuukka’s shoulder as he comes again, still trembling, still mewling, his hands balled into tight fists as he rides it out. Patrice watches as he makes a mess of himself, stomach and thighs slick with come.

“No. We talked about that. You and Brad have to share.” There’s a finality to what he says, and Torey pouts a little. Still, his hand starts up again on his cock, though he’s not riding Patrice anymore, but rather slowly rocking his hips back and forth, just enough to press on his prostate and get him closer to the edge.

“He...ah, _fuck_...could eat me out after,” Torey offers, breathless as he toys with his tip. Patrice is merely a passenger in this moment, his attention split between his loves, and he closes his eyes, letting the scents of the room take him over. He still wants to come, and he knows that this is a reward for all of them, but this is a reward for him primarily, and he needs to let that be known.

“Lemme come? Please,” he adds, trembling beneath Torey’s small actions. They’re not enough to get him over the edge, but they are dragging him perilously close. “Please please please, _fuck!_ ”

His curse is overshadowed by the panting moans Torey lets out as he comes, biting his lower lip as he paints Patrice’s chest white. He’s like a vice grip, tight and wet and hot around Patrice, and he knows that his boys are cumsluts but now he’s being kept from his own pleasure, and that’s not what he wants.

The warmth around his cock slowly leaves as Torey sits up more, letting Patrice fall out of him. He’s achingly hard, but he’s also wet with anticipation, and he wants to be fucked and _finally_ come, and not be alone, but -

The bite pressed to his shoulder makes him gasp, and he can taste Tuukka’s presence before he really registers exactly who’s there. Winter frozen lakes and allspice, warm and cold at the same time, and his gasp turns into a high whine reminiscent of Brad’s mewl from earlier. When he opens his eyes, he’s still turned to look over at the chair where Brad is sitting up, his hand in Torey’s hair as he kneels on the floor, Brad’s cock in his mouth. He’s not trying to suck him off, but rather clean him of his own mess, but they all know Brad will inevitably end up coming again.

“Attention on me.” Simple words, murmured in his ear, with an unmistakable alpha quality, that gets Patrice’s attention. Tuukka looks down at him, fondness across his features, even as he reaches between Patrice’s legs and bypasses his hard cock, going instead for his hole, wet from neglected arousal after all this time.

“Please,” Patrice whispers, but he’s cut off as Tuukka slides a finger inside, then another, efficiently working him open. He squirms a bit, visually reminiscent of Brad from the start of their night; on his back, biting his lower lip, letting out sweet little noises and trying so hard not to touch himself.

Tuukka presses a kiss to his forehead, smoothing the tension there. He moves Patrice’s legs apart, getting easier access as he moves down to kiss him, and from there, it’s easy for Tuukka to press in. Patrice jerks a little at the sudden stretch, his leg kicking out however slightly, and there’s that soft laugh again. He whines at the sound, but finds himself unable to speak because he’s finally full and he knows how wins get their alpha going.

There’s only a few moments before the first press in and when Patrice has his fingers buried in Tuukka’s curls, pulling him in close as Tuukka fucks him into the mattress, all the pleasure from the previous two rounds mounting up into one. And it’s not long before Tuukka breaks out of the kiss, enough to bite at Patrice’s collarbone, before murmuring, “Gonna knot you, baby, okay?”

He likes not having a choice, and he likes knowing he can bow out at any moment, and he likes that Tuukka gets that he can’t always explain it, but right now he just wants to come, and apparently he’s saying that out loud because Tuukka roughly palms his dick and then Patrice whites out. When he comes to, Tuukka’s knotted in him, adding to the stretch, and the wetness between his thighs. It feels so good, and he rolls his hips a bit, feeling the tug between them. Tuukka growls, a soft reprimand, and now it’s Patrice’s turn to laugh.

Then there’s someone briefly kissing at his neck, fingers teasing his nipples, which gets him going again, and when he looks down he sees Torey and Brad licking up the mess he’d made of himself. Torey looks up at him and winks as he moves up, licking and quickly scraping his teeth over Patrice’s nipple. He jerks, which gets another growl from Tuukka, who has a hand in Brad’s hair, gently rubbing his scalp as he cleans up Patrice. The French-Canadian reaches up and slides a hand into Torey’s mane of hair, pulling him in for a kiss. He can taste himself, which is the norm for their moments shared. It’s a nice, calm moment, but then Brad takes his cock into his mouth and Patrice whines into the kiss, trying to handle the oversensitivity without dislodging any of them.

Brad continues for a few moments before he’s pulled back, presumably guided by Tuukka. Torey pulls back as well, licking his lips and sitting back on the bed. This next part does have a hierarchy, and they all know that, but it’s okay. It feels better this way.

Tuukka leans down, nuzzling on Patrice’s neck, scenting him. He knows he smells like a mixture of all of them, having been marked over the course of the night, but he also knows that the overwhelming mixture of scents from the game still clings to him, at least to more sensitive noses like Tuukka and Brad. The Finn hums softly, an almost purr instead of a growl, as he moves up to scent Patrice’s hair, replacing it with his own. By the time he’s done, his knot has come down enough that he can slip out, moving over to where Torey had been. The defenseman, meanwhile, moved to be between Patrice’s still spread legs, while Brad moves up to do his own scenting of his linemate.

Patrice can’t help the little whimper that escapes when he feels Torey’s tongue at his hole, gently but eagerly working to clean Tuukka’s cum. Brad pays him no mind, just kissing at Patrice’s throat and nuzzling in close. It’s an endless barrage of pleasure, especially when Tuukka’s hand comes in to gently run through his hair, pulling the sweaty strands off his forehead and letting him cool off.

“Easy, you two. We have practice tomorrow,” Tuukka murmurs.

“You were the one who knotted him, I’m just cleaning up,” Torey quips back. When he pulls back, Patrice can feel more of Tuukka’s cum leak out of him, and he shifts his hips a little to entice Torey to get back to work. “Oh, _now_ you want my mouth…” the defenseman mutters before resuming.

“‘M not doing anything,” Brad mumbles, but moves off of Patrice to give Torey his turn to scent Patrice. It doesn’t take much longer, and when Torey gets on top of Patrice and presses in close, the beta finally can speak, his fingers woven into Torey’s hair and keeping him close.

“That was...so good. I love you, all.” He feels sore and sated and overwhelmingly loved. Brad radiates contentedness as he flops onto his back beside Patrice, closing his eyes as he presses a little kiss to Patrice’s shoulder.

“We love you too, Bergy. A lot.”

There’s a hum of assent from Tuukka and Torey; the former because he’s not partial to words, and the latter because he’s currently busy nosing around Patrice’s jawline. A few moments more, then he removes himself, leaving Patrice bare to the air of the room.

“...We need to clean up,” he mumbles.

There’s two groans of disappointment, and, of course, Tuukka gets up from the bed and goes into the bathroom to start the shower. They all know how the rest of the night will pan out.

Tuukka will shower off first and then go to the kitchen and start to pull something together for dinner, leaving the other three to remain on the bed, contented and sated and tired. While dinner’s cooking, he’ll come back in and send them to go shower off, and it’s not too far off that they’ll be in the shower together, the three of them, or perhaps Brad first and then Torey and Patrice, or perhaps Torey first and then Brad and Patrice, but either way, they’ll be clean.

Odds are tonight, Tuukka will circle back a second time before Patrice is able to get dressed, just to get in his own quality time with him for a few moments, while Torey and Brad head out of the bedroom to supervise whatever is brewing in the kitchen. They’ll all come back together for dinner, Patrice and Tuukka sitting up, Torey sprawled between the two of them and Brad in Patrice’s lap. They’ll eat; they’ll laugh; they’ll plan for tomorrow.

Then they’ll go to sleep, and when they awaken in the morning they’ll go to practice, Tuukka driving and Patrice doling out coffees to the sleepy shorties in the back. The day will start again, and they’ll move on to see what new challenges they face.

Until then, though, Patrice is content to lay on the bed, stained and still damp, with Brad and Torey pressed up close to him, with Brad contentedly purring. Not a bad way to celebrate a win.

**Author's Note:**

> you already know the drill, comments make me wanna write more 💛
> 
> google translate helped a little bit but basically:
> 
>  _dépêchez-vous_ \- (you all) hurry up  
>  _pas ici, pas ici_ \- not here, not here
> 
> i made torey speak a moderate handful of french because why not, brad's got some so torey should too


End file.
